


Fëanor the Traumatized

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor should have known better than to walk into his father's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fëanor the Traumatized

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, sex content. Quickly goes from humorous to angst.

Fëanor had ventured out of his forge and to his father’s palace in search of him. He planned to spend some time with his father today, even if he still didn’t quite like Indis, he was willing to ignore her faults for now. His father seemed strangely happier now that he had her in his life, though for the life of him, Feanor couldn’t imagine why.

As he searched through the house, he heard pained moans from his father’s bedroom. Worried that his father had hurt himself, he ran towards the bedroom, finding the door slightly open. Pushing it open farther, he started to call out, but cut himself off horrified.

In the middle of the bed, his father was tied to each post of the bed by ropes from his ankles and wrists. Kneeling above him, Indis was dripping hot wax onto his chest, slowing making a path downwards. As each drop hit his skin, his father was letting out increasingly loud moans. Fëanor stared in mute horror, before he finally stumbled backwards, knocking a vase off a nearby table.

As the vase hit the floor and made a crashing noise, Indis and Finwë jerked their heads upwards, before Indis jumped off the bed with a shriek, and Finwë began to yank on the ropes. Before either had managed to gather their wits and stop him, Fëanor had run off, finally reaching his room and diving into his own bed, where he gathered his blankets over his head. He trembled as he sat there, unable to process what he had just seen.

“Fëanor? Are you in there?” he heard his father knocking on the door, but was unable to reply. His father seemed to know that he was in there, and simply pressed the door open, before sighing as he saw his son. Crossing the room, he sat down on the bed and pulled his son into a hug. “I’m sorry, we should have locked the door.”

Fëanor finally managed to speak, “She was hurting you.”

“Well, yes. But that’s part of the pleasure.” Finwë spoke slowly, trying to avoid upsetting his son even more.

“But she was hurting you! Why would you marry somebody who wanted to do that?” Fëanor cried out.

“Indis was doing it because I wished her to. It’s a weakness of mine, I’m afraid.” Finwë had hoped to never have to have this discussion with his son.

“Why?” Fëanor said confusedly. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Finwë sighed. “Because I like it, Fëanor. I will make sure you never have to see it again, however-”

“Why can’t you just stop it all? Mother would never have-”

“Your mother is the one that introduced me to it!” Finwë spoke loudly and immediately regretted it as he saw the look on Fëanor’s face.

“Get out!” Fëanor cried. “Don’t talk about her like that! Don’t! Just because you want me to like Indis, you don’t have to tell lies about my mother!”

“Fëanor, please!” Finwë begged, trying to get his son to calm down.

“No!” he shook his head. “Get away from me! Just go!”

“Very well. I’ll be down the hall if you wish to speak more about this,” Finwë knelt down and kissed his son’s forehead. “Please, Fëanor, remember that I love you.”

Fëanor turned his head away, and Finwë walked away slowly.

~

_Dear Atar,_

_I’m sorry. I need a break away from you and her. It’s too much, too quickly. I’m sorry for implying that you tell lies about Amil, I know that you did love her. Indis, perhaps, is good for you. However, she’s not good for me._

_Mahtan has offered to let me stay with him and study more about jewels for a few months. I shall write you. It will be a chance for me to learn more about the things I love._

_Perhaps this is the wrong way for me to leave. But I can’t tell you this to your face, Atar. You would beg me to stay, and I would never leave._

_I love you._

_Farewell,_

_Your Son_

Finwë dropped the letter to the table, before resting his head against the table as well. He missed his son already.


End file.
